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<title>Take Another Little Piece of My Heart by Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29678919">Take Another Little Piece of My Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia'>Paraprosdokia (ChangeableConsistency)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blow Jobs, Hate Sex, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Unhappy Ending, bad break up</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:49:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29678919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeableConsistency/pseuds/Paraprosdokia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint just wants to get a reaction. <i>Any</i> reaction.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton/Phil Coulson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Take Another Little Piece of My Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>But each time I tell myself that I<br/>Well I can't stand the pain<br/>But when you hold me in your arms<br/>I'll sing it once again</p><p>-Janis Joplin: Piece of My Heart</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Was there anything else, Agent Barton?” Phil says, not looking at Clint. </p><p>He never looks at Clint anymore. </p><p>Not like he used to. </p><p>Not since Phil proposed and Clint told him he wasn’t the marrying kind. </p><p>They’d tried to make it work after that but really they’re just too different.</p><p>Phil is looking for forever and Clint knows everything in life is temporary, especially the good things. </p><p>“You could let me suck your cock.”</p><p>“What!?” He’s startled Phil enough to make him yelp, which is more of a reaction that Clint’s gotten in over a month, not since he told Phil they couldn’t keep doing this, not with the way it was hurting Phil.</p><p>And Clint’s a bad, bad man— he had been a rotten kid and had only gone downhill from there; he knows he should leave it, that this will only make matters worse, but he can’t stand what they’ve become. He used to be the only one who ever saw the man beneath the suit and now he could be any one of the other agents Phil handles and he can’t stand the thought of it. </p><p>“You heard me. You know how good my mouth is and I know how much stress you’ve been under, and that’s not even counting how things went down between us. So, once more for old times sake?”</p><p>“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Agent Barton.”</p><p>There it is again. </p><p>
  <em> Agent Barton. </em>
</p><p>Clint’s been <em> Agent Barton </em> since they broke up and every time he hears it he dies a little inside. </p><p>But he can’t pretend to believe in a future where everything works out; people like him don’t get happily ever afters. </p><p>Clint had thought they were on the same page, that though years of flirting and sexual tension had finally boiled over on a sultry Tuscan night, post mission just the two of them with a couple days down time before they had to return to the helicarrier, it didn’t mean anything and continued not to mean anything for six months. </p><p>And then there had been Phil, and that damned box, the one with a pair of plain gold rings, and when Phil had gotten down on one knee Clint had run, run as hard and as fast as he had known how. </p><p>It only took two days for Phil to find him and Clint’s pretty sure that’s only because Phil was trying to give him space. </p><p>Phil had said he was happy to wait until Clint was ready, even if it never happened and Clint let himself be convinced they could live like that. </p><p>But as the weeks wore on, they’re was a growing sadness in Phil’s eyes, a sadness <em> Clint </em>put there. </p><p>So Clint had broken up with him for his own good. Told him that he hoped they could still work together but that it was best if they just had a clean break. </p><p>That had been six weeks, two days, nine hours and 27 minutes ago. </p><p>Clint hates Phil, a little bit; for proving Clint’s point, for so easily being able to flip the switch, to turn off his feelings for Clint so completely. </p><p>How real could they have been?</p><p>“I get it, you haven’t gotten laid since we broke up; things have been busy so I know you haven’t been able to get off deck but you’re obviously over it and I’m horny, so let’s say we blow off some steam? Whatever else happened the sex was always spectacular, wasn’t it? C’mon Phil, I miss having you in my mouth. I need your cock. Please?”</p><p>Phil’s mouth pinches then he says, “Lock the door.”</p><p>Clint quickly obeys then takes his shirt off and throws it at Phil, who catches himself with an aborted move, clenching his fists in the fabric in an effort not to bring it to his nose and inhale the way he used to and Clint wants to crow over the proof that he’s getting to the man, “Shall I get the couch, do this right?”</p><p>Phil has one of the larger rooms on the helicarrier, but that’s because it does double duty as both office and quarters, the couch on one wall folds out into a surprisingly comfortable bed. </p><p>Clint knows how Phil likes him, spread out naked on Phil’s sheets while Phil stands over him with just his cock out, Clint’s head hanging back over the edge so that Phil can fit his full length down Clint’s throat. </p><p>“Here’s fine. On your knees, Barton,” Phil says, tossing Clint’s shirt carelessly on his desk and swivels his chair as he unzips his fly; spreading his legs to make room for Clint’s wide shoulders. </p><p>Clint can’t stop the moan that escapes his throat as he goes to the floor, stroking Phil’s legs from his knees up the inside of his thighs until Clint can get his greedy hands on Phil’s half hard cock.</p><p>Clint strokes it a couple times while he fondles Phil’s balls just the way Phil likes, though the selfish bastard continues to withhold any reaction. His expression so blank he could be reviewing inventory reports for all his face betrays. </p><p>Even still, he’s hard and pulsing in record time; Clint’s always been good with his hands. Almost as good as he is with his mouth. </p><p>Clint is of the, somewhat expert, opinion that Phil has a perfect cock. Thick enough that it always makes Clint feel the stretch of it in his mouth or in his ass, God he wishes he could convince Phil to fuck him, but it had always been an epic seduction to get Phil to take Clint’s ass in the middle of the work day— and that had been when Phil was going out of his way to give Clint anything he wanted; Phil nixing the bed means that’s off the table. </p><p>Which is fine, Clint can work with this.</p><p>Clint continues to roll Phil balls around in one hand, gripping the base of Phil’s cock with the other and holding him at the exact angle Clint wants him, so that Phil’s view is Clint, shirtless and on his knees under Phil’s cock, licking his way from Phil’s balls, over his own knuckles and then up to take just the tip in his mouth, suckling gently as he tongues the slit and Phil lets out a little sigh. </p><p>Wanting— <em> needing </em>more Clint starts sucking harder, never stilling his hand on Phil’s balls, starting to jack him slowly but surely from the base of Phil’s cock up to the seal of Clint’s lips, his calloused hands rough against Phil’s smooth as silk skin. </p><p>That doesn’t get him anything so he starts following his hand down with his mouth, using his tongue to smear his spit around Phil’s cock slicking the way until the smacking sound of it fills the room and Clint can’t help himself, moaning low and deep. </p><p>Fuck, he missed this.</p><p>He wishes Phil would grab him by the hair, fuck his face the way he only ever did when Clint had pushed him past the bounds of his control, but instead he leans back in the chair, hands loose on top of the chair’s arms, like this is nothing to him. </p><p>Like <em> Clint </em>is nothing to him.</p><p>He sucks off with a pop and begs, voice gone rough and deep, “Please, Phil? Please, I need more.”</p><p>“Take your cock out, Barton.”</p><p>No! Not <em> Barton. </em> He needs to hear Phil call him Clint, the way he only ever has behind closed doors, like it was a precious gift, a moment of intimacy between just  the two of them.</p><p>He’s rough as he undoes his pants one handed, continuing to blow and jack Phil’s cock, hesitating before he takes himself in hand.</p><p>“Go on, it’s what you’re here for isn’t it?”</p><p>Clint cringes internally, resentment welling up. As if the only one getting anything out of this is Clint. </p><p>Clint brings his mouth down as far as he can on Phil’s cock, gagging on it as he starts to thrust into the warmth of his own hand, moaning and whimpering, blinking back tears as he makes it rougher and rougher.</p><p>“Come on, Barton. You need it? You take it, go on, cum. Cum, Clint.”</p><p>That’s what does it, his name on Phil’s lips with that possessive curl to it and he spills into his hands as he moans around Phil’s cock.</p><p>Then before he knows what’s happening he’s being pushed back, Phil uses Clint shirt to wipe away Clint’s spit and Phil’s precum, then uses it to clean Clint’s hand before giving him the shirt, tucking his cock out of the way and turning his chair back to his desk.</p><p>Clint sits in a post orgasmic haze until he comes back to himself and he feels the bottom drop out from under him. He stands up next to Phil’s chair, his hands squeezing the shirt in his hands, wanting to apologize, to take it all back. Not just what happened but all of it, he wants to go back to before Phil said those four fucking words and ruined everything. </p><p>“Will that be all?” Phil asks, as if Clint didn't know he was hard and aching in his pants. </p><p>“I hate you,” Clint growls, “You— fuck you Phil.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I just fucked you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to get done,” Phil says with a dismissive nod towards the door, “And Agent Barton? Put your shirt on. We have a dress code.”</p><p>Clint looks down at the spit and cum stained shirt, knowing the order for the dare it is; he’s run around shirtless plenty of times and no ones ever said a word against it. This is Phil being cruel for cruelty’s sake but Clint can be cruel too and so instead of flipping Phil off the way he wants to he pulls the shirt on, uselessly trying to smooth out the wrinkles and just before he slips out he says, “I always did enjoy wearing cum against my skin for you. It’s a shame it’s not yours.”</p><p>The hungry, destroyed look on Phil’s face as Clint shuts the door makes this all worth it. </p><p>The second the door is closed Phil rushes over to it and locks it again, tearing his pants open and getting his hand around his still damp cock, stripping it for all he’s worth, thinking of the look in Clint’s eyes as he had looked up and— and there’s no other word for it— <em> worshiped </em>Phil’s cock, the way his hands felt, his face as he came with Phil’s cock down his throat, “Clint!” Phil shouts as he comes over his fist and then a softer, quieter, “Clint,” as he slides down against the door until he’s curled up on the floor and starts to sob. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know, so sad! But this is what the fic wanted to be. 🤷🏻</p><p>I know, it’s a little ironic, that my Fandom Trumps Hate limit is unhappy endings and yet this is what wanted to be written. </p><p>If I tried to explain the convoluted ways my brain works (as if that were a thing I was capable of in the first place) we would be here all day. </p><p>We have a couple days left for bidding on the FTH auction; my gift offering is different from I’m gift commissions in that I’m offering up to a minimum of 10k instead of my normal 5k. </p><p>Check out all the auctions here:<br/>https://fth2021offerings.dreamwidth.org/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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